A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Rita Skeeter bowed her head deeply, afraid to speak aloud. She felt her breath catch, yet this time, she was certain it wasn't the effect of magic but something more spine-chilling.

She knew she had to make a decision quickly. She was well aware that the person before her didn't care about her life or death. The last time he had come calling, his sole purpose was to make her learn to keep quiet. And once she did, she hadn't faced any trouble from that direction again. But likewise, if she wanted help, she had to pay a price.

And she was confident that the name Rita Skeeter itself represented value.

"Respected Mr. Harp," she spoke sincerely, "I seek some advice for when I've made a fatal mistake." Simultaneously, she couldn't help but grumble about another person residing in the castle, Dumbledore.

In her new book, despite avoiding names, she had dropped numerous hints, portraying a bold and resourceful character, using the headline of the 'Dark Lord and his loyal Death Eaters' which couldn't be explicitly stated but was widely recognized. About Regulus, she unearthed limited insider information—her reputation among wizards had soured, and being an insect wasn't useful; ordinary people didn't discuss a deceased person casually. She only found some public records and patched together characteristics of a dozen or so famous ancestors of the Black family.

Thus, the figure in the book, the 'noble and pure-blooded' descendant of a prestigious lineage, alternated between charming and tolerant, cautious and sharp-tongued, somewhat akin to the person in front of her...

But the person she couldn't name was different. This was her carefully crafted drama, aiming to challenge the honor of the 'best-selling book of the 20th century'. Overseas, the book's publicity referred to it as the 'Secrets of the Second Dark Lord', subtly linking the mysterious figure and the prominent figure currently imprisoned in the tower. She handled these tactics skillfully, adeptly maneuvering through them.

Her long history of eavesdropping led her to one conclusion: despite people's aversion in words, everyone harbored a mischievous little devil inside them. They hoped to see lofty figures brought down from their pedestals or even kicked off.

And she—Rita Skeeter—played the role of the stumbling stone.

With this in mind, she filled the book with abundant real details, requiring her to delve into the mysterious figure's past, especially his childhood. It was a dangerous pursuit; she cautiously sought openings and, after learning about a few prominent surnames, decisively focused on the mysterious person's childhood—the years spent in an orphanage.

Coincidentally, she met Dumbledore, who shared her interest in the mysterious person's childhood. They crossed paths at the residence of an orphanage director. Dumbledore, without mentioning the potential deadly danger she might encounter, merely advised her gently, "It's best not to do this..."

That buzzing old bee! Rita Skeeter muttered a play on Dumbledore's name, contemplating his age. But considering his formidable powers, he might outlive her, rendering all her thoughts futile. Criticizing his management style in the newspaper or depicting him as a madman might be alright, but she dared not unearth real secrets while he was alive.

A scrutinizing gaze swept over her, causing her to gasp, her body involuntarily shivering. The blazing fireplace provided little warmth; her complex thoughts were extinguished in an instant.

"You seek advice from me?"

"Frankly, I don't see remorse in you... Perhaps you find pleasure in it?" Felix murmured. "That might explain it—making choices and bearing the consequences."

"No, that's not it," Rita Skeeter hurriedly said. "I know you have influence over certain people, like the last Black... just a word—"

"A word?" Felix interrupted. "If I understand correctly, you want me to sacrifice my friends' interests to help someone—forgive me for being frank—a person of little relevance?"

Skeeter's breath hitched suddenly.

"Yeah, yeah!" Valen in his arms grumbled discontentedly.

Rita Skeeter's posture lowered further as she recounted her experiences over the past few days. Gradually, she seemed to get into a rhythm, her usually rigid face, lacking empathy, now brimming with tears.

"I express regret for your ordeal," Felix responded simply after hearing her out, "but don't claim innocence. You made decisions while in a sober state."

"I know..." Rita Skeeter said cunningly. "I brought some 'sincerity'." She raised her hands, displaying her bright red long nails. Then, with a click-clack sound, these nails detached from her fingers.

Ten nails, resembling small daggers, floated in front of Felix. He attempted to reach for them but stopped himself. Observing them through the air for a while, he calmly turned away.

"I have three suggestions. You can choose to listen, or not, or pick one or two. You're clever, Rita; you need to decide for yourself."

"First, mitigate the influence of that book. How much you do it is up to your determination. But I must caution you, Dumbledore won't be interested in a dead person's childhood..."

"Second, I'll contact Sirius, saying you've agreed to write a biography for Regulus. He doesn't care about his own reputation but won't tolerate others tarnishing his brother's name. So, Rita, bring out your most skilled writing for this."

"Finally..."

Felix's slender fingers flickered slightly, and a ring bearing a serpent's tail suddenly appeared, transforming into a jade-like little snake that swiftly darted towards Rita before she could react, slithering onto her bare hand.

Rita Skeeter stared at the ring in a daze, locking eyes with the small green-eyed serpent moving continuously.

"If there's a threat to your life, just rub this ring. Trust me, you'll have enough time to send a distress signal—if those people act due to your 'offense,' they won't let you die easily."

Rita Skeeter breathed out, her expression considerably solemn. She took two steps back, respectfully saying, "I can do all three points, Mr. Harp." Then she transformed back into a plump beetle and flew out of the castle.

Deep in thought, Felix took out a parchment and wrote a short message:

"Sirius, I know you're bothered by that annoying book. I was about to talk to you about it.

Rita Skeeter just visited me. The book won't be reprinted, but we might not be able to retrieve the thousands already in circulation. I arranged for Lems to buy the remaining stock on the market to minimize the impact.

Furthermore, she agreed to write a biography for Regulus, where every word needs your approval. You and Kreacher can provide enough details to flesh out the characters in the book. However, I suggest you hide the Horcrux's name or delay that part of the publication...

So, it's best not to linger at Rita Skeeter's doorstep. She's become a skittish bird, and I wouldn't want to read about you being sent back to Azkaban while having breakfast.

Also, if you're interested in entering Hogwarts next year as the Dark Arts professor, it's best to prepare in advance. I have

a friend in the Muggle world; he can arrange for you to be an assistant for a while.

If interested, please contact Mr. Zacharias Colville, address at..."

After finishing the letter, the flames in the fireplace suddenly turned a bright emerald green. Felix tossed the parchment into the fire, and it spun before disappearing.

Regaining his focus, Felix noticed Valen staring at the bright red nails in mid-air. "Oh, those aren't for you," Felix said, gathering the nails that had recorded countless secrets.

He viewed these as something that might never be used or could be used tomorrow.

Then, he twirled his wand, and a silver light emitted from its tip. Like silver silk, the light wound around Valen, gradually forming into a tangible entity. Valen kept twisting, amazed by everything, as if countless invisible fairies were weaving clothes behind him. Finally, it became a silver cloak.

"Yeah, yeah?"

"One of my recent research findings—reshaping the guardian into a new form." Felix smiled. "You can try it."

Valen blinked, staring at the glowing cloak behind him and put the hood on, revealing only half of his pink beak.

"Yeah! Yeah?"

Realizing he was floating, Valen looked surprised, gazing at Felix, who neither drew his wand nor extended a finger, just smiling at him.

Valen wriggled, and the silver cloak behind him swayed accordingly. Soon, he flew toward one side of the office—

"Wow yeah! Yeah!"

In no time, Valen adeptly handled the cloak behind him—slight turns made the cloak swiftly change position.

Enjoying the play, he flew around the room, excitedly chirping.

Felix pondered inwardly; perhaps only he could use this magic. Yet, he had already mastered a form of flight, albeit with some side effects, which he rarely used.

As for the principles and samples of the 'flight wings,' he had handed them all over to Vector.

There's one more chapter, but it will be released later.

>

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